


Say You Want Me

by LittleSixx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Ghost Draco Malfoy, Ghost Sex, POV Hermione Granger, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Regret, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 12:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSixx/pseuds/LittleSixx
Summary: Draco Malfoy's ghost regains human form for forty days each year, and he makes the most of Hermione Granger's time at Malfoy Manor. (Porn - v little plot.)





	Say You Want Me

**Author's Note:**

> I had an entire fic outlined that I abandoned because I fell out of love with it. However, I wrote this whole scene and figured it could make a decent standalone. This work has not been beta-read.

Draco searched Hermione’s eyes for a clue as to what would come next. He was holding onto restraint with his fingernails, caught between lust and curiosity and hate. Hermione wanted to punch him for making her feel just the same, so confused and almost high on it. She needed something, needed something to make this feeling go away.

So she pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. Their lips were smashed together for less than a second before Draco had a hand against her collarbone and pushed her back. He took a shaky breath in and the grey in his eyes all but disappeared as he realized for a moment it had worked. Everything made sense and the tense distance between them had vanished. So Hermione forced herself not to drag him closer. She waited until he decided which direction the evening would turn.

Hermione was shocked when Draco wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Their second kiss was slow, Hermione paying rapt attention to his lower lip. She teased it with her teeth, desperate to make him bleed.

Draco placed his other hand on the nape of Hermione’s neck. He twined his fingers in the hair there and tugged just enough to hurt. Hermione broke their kiss as her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned, lips open and ready to ask him to do it again. But Draco snogged her so hard their teeth clacked together and Hermione bit down the slightest bit on his tongue. Draco hissed in pain but when Hermione opened her eyes she saw he was anything but upset about it. Hermione wet her lips and he said,

“We need a bed.”

Hermione should have said no. The quiet voice at the back of her head suggested she take time to breathe, to gather herself and think about the consequences of what she was about to do. But there was no air in the room, or if there was it couldn’t make it into her lungs before she was breathing it back into Draco, willing life into him.

He took her hand and half-dragged her down the hall into his bedroom. Draco was establishing control and Hermione didn’t mind at all. She didn’t need control, she just needed Draco to want her. That shame was more painful to him than any magic ever would be. She wanted to hurt him and bury her hatred in the process.

When Draco demanded, “Strip,” Hermione complied. She had felt powerful before. She had known what it was to be loved and to be respected, but never had she felt truly desirable. Hermione quickly pulled her blouse off and tossed it aside. Draco Malfoy’s gaze was white-hot as it roamed over her skin. His fingers twitched with a need to touch but he made no move toward her. Hermione wanted to savour that, Draco actively working against his own desire. Hermione ran her hands slowly down her sides before sliding her thumbs beneath the top of her skirt. She pushed it down, bending forward until the top of her skirt reached her knees. She felt Draco’s eyes on her chest.

Hermione stepped out of her skirt and sat back on Malfoy’s bed. She bent over again to undo the straps on her heels before kicking them in the direction of her clothes. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Hermione sat upright once again.

“Do you not want to do this?” she teased. Hermione saw the answer; it was tenting the front of his trousers. Draco grumbled.

“God, I wish I didn’t,” he admitted.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hermione replied with as much disdain as she could muster. The voice at the back of her head was drowned out by a chorus of _wantwantwant_ and _needneedneed_. Draco began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“I hate wanting you,” he admitted. “I hate your bushy hair and your stupid wide eyes that see far more than I want you to.”

“I see you,” Hermione agreed.

“The problem precisely,” Draco tossed back as he tossed his button-down onto the pile Hermione created. Hermione expected him to take off his undershirt but he made no move to do so. Instead, Draco busied himself undoing his belt. “I hate that you are smarter than me.”

“I’m smarter than a lot of people,” Hermione quipped.

“So am I,” Draco parried back. He unbuttoned his trousers then kicked them off, scooting across the floor with a loud scraping sound as the buckle dragged across the wood.

Hermione watched as he toed off his socks, eyeing Draco Malfoy in nothing but his boxers. He was infuriating just standing there, shoulders back and head held high as Hermione ogled him. Draco faltered for one moment when he realized he needed to initiate whatever happened next. Hermione could still leave. Nothing had happened, not really. She was vulnerable but nothing that had been done couldn’t be whisked away with a light breeze.

Malfoy took a step forward and glared down at Hermione. It was a feinting ploy because Malfoy was about to make himself vulnerable, too. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head upward so he could see her face. Hermione’s nose twitched, disgusted by the blatant power move, but she allowed Draco this one kindness.

“I want to do this and I want to do it without my shirt. However, there are some scars not even Death can heal. If you look at me the wrong way I will stop whatever we have here, toss you out, and you will never be able to enter my house again.”

More bravado from a very scared man. Hermione knew he wouldn’t throw her out because she was his best hope at breaking the curse. His only hope, really. He’d been rejected because of his scars before, she guessed. Or maybe he was just being a presumptuous ass. Either way, Hermione nodded and Draco pulled his shirt over his head before he could think twice about it.

Hermione ground her teeth together to prevent herself from gasping aloud. Starting at his left shoulder and wrapping around to his right side were three thin, raised scars. They were a couple shades darker than the rest of his skin and had a pink hue to them like they never healed properly. Dark magic, then. Hermione blinked and if she hadn’t known better she would have assumed Malfoy had been attacked by a vicious creature, unable to escape its claws. A bear or a Werewolf would have made similar cuts.

“May I touch them?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Draco said. He was gentle about it, though. And a little frightened. He shook his head and forced himself back into the moment. “I want you to take everything else off.”

Hermione smiled as she reached behind to undo the clasp of her bra. She slid the straps over her shoulders and down her arms as slowly as she could manage, watching as Draco balled his hands into fists to repress the urge to reach out and touch Hermione’s bare chest. His eyes held no such compunction. Hermione made quick work of her knickers and threw them onto the pile of clothes and reveled in how Draco observed her body.

It wasn’t awful. In fact, it was the first time Hermione didn’t have to wonder about what Draco was thinking. He was noting all her curves, lingering appreciatively on all her imperfections. Th MUDBLOOD scar on her left arm was where his eyes stayed longest, and Hermione couldn’t discern whether the shame in the eyes was because of her blood or because of the role he played in Hermione receiving that cicatrix. He noted the thin gash along her neck and the bruise on her upper thigh from where she ran into a desk a few days earlier. When Draco finally spoke he asked,

“What do you want from this?”

“I want to stop feeling things I don’t want to feel,” Hermione admitted. “And I want to hear you say that you want me, over and over.”

“That can be arranged,” he replied, his voice hoarse. Hermione glanced down to see that Draco’s desire hadn’t waned at all. She met his eyes again and he said, “Get on the bed and hold onto the headboard.”

Hermione complied, realizing she wouldn’t get to see Malfoy’s face when he came undone inside her. Draco was playing the game as he wanted it.

Bastard.

“She gripped the headboard with the lightest of touches and felt the bed dip as Draco positioned himself behind her. Hermione took a deep breath, ready to receive him, but was met instead by Draco’s right hand on her shoulder. His hand moved slowly down her side, fingers just barely brushing the swell of her breast before pressing more firmly against her waist then settling on her hip.

Draco brought his other hand up to the back of Hermione’s head. He threaded his fingers in her hair as closely as they could get to her scalp, and then he pulled.

“Oh!” Hermione half-moaned. Draco nudged her head to the left side and bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Hermione moaned, louder that time knowing his actions would leave a mark. Draco tugged lightly on Hermione’s hair again and she hummed her approval.

“You like that,” he observed. Any witty retort was lost as Draco tugged her head all the way back and wrapped his right hand around her neck. Hermione’s heart sped up so quickly she had no doubt Draco could feel it through her pulse point. His fingers tightened their hold.

“Do you like this, Granger?” Draco asked. “Being at my mercy in a way you never could be with wands drawn?” Hermione tried to shake her head but Draco’s hold was firm. “I know you like that I want you, but I think you like being out of power. I think you get off on it, knowing I control what happens.”

Hermione wanted to insist otherwise, but the lie wouldn’t come. Instead she just croaked out,

“Enough foreplay.”

“Right you are,” Draco said, completely releasing his hold on Hermione. Her body tensed without his touch, preparing for the inevitable. She felt the tip of his cock at her entrance and tightened her hold on the headboard. Draco placed his hands on her hips as he slid inside, met with little resistance. He let out a breathy moan as he pressed further in, his forehead resting on top of Hermione’s head for a moment.

“You are so anxious for this, Granger,” he whispered. “Practically dripping.”

“Say you want me,” Hermione insisted. Draco lifted his head and pushed farther inside. Hermione whimpered and he said,

“I will say what I want, but I promise it will be what you want to hear.”

He pulled out then thrust back in, testing Hermione’s response. She tried not to react but found herself pushing her knees further apart so Draco could have full access. He placed a hand on her breast and Hermione arched into his touch.

“So responsive,” he teased.

“Do you have to narrate every fucking thing?” Hermione growled. Draco’s fingers tightened uncomfortably around Hermione’s breast before he let go and slapped her ass.

“Yes,” he answered. Hermione leaned forward and exposed her bum.

“Do it again.”

Draco obliged her request, slapping each cheek once before driving himself further inside her. Hermione moaned as she brushed her fingers across her clit, focusing on Draco’s movements. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her back before grabbing one cheek in each hand.

“You have a great ass,” he observed. Hermione preened at the compliment and leaned forward again, offering it up to him. He chuckled. “I can see you blushing, even your back is turning pink.”

“Does it feel the same for you?” Hermione asked. Her breaths came in shorter bursts as Draco sped up his thrusts for a few moments.

“Shagging as a ghost, you mean?”

“Y-yes,” Hermione moaned. She could almost hear him smirking. He slowed down and wrapped an arm around Hermione’s middle, pulling her flush against his chest. Hermione’s lips parted as he reached some as-yet untouched spot inside her. She felt his scars against her shoulderblades and realized this was the most intimate thing she had ever done. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

“It’s better,” he said. “I know everything I am missing once I am dragged yet again to the other side of the veil. I know how to appreciate what I am denied for three hundred fifteen days.” He pulled out and slammed back into Hermione, eliciting a groan. He kneaded her breast with his free hand as he said, “This is when I feel closest to being human, right now, inside you, feeling your warmth. I feel how alive you are.”

“You feel … very real to me,” Hermione stuttered out, desperate for him to move again.

“I am real, Hermione, just dead,” he reminded her. It was as though something in him had shattered, bitterness taking over whatever intimacy they had shared. The shift was tangible and she tried to salvage it.

“Not to me,” she insisted. It didn’t work. Draco pushed her forward so Hermione was forced to grab onto the headboard. He threaded his fingers in her hair once again and pulled as his hips began pounding Hermione at a frenzied pace. She felt his bollocks against her, he was so deep.

“I am dead, and you are shagging me anyway,” Draco chastised. “Are you so desperate, Granger?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. He slowed and she said, “I want you to want me because you are Draco Malfoy.” Draco pressed a finger against Hermione’s clit and she closed her eyes. She pressed her forehead into the headboard and cried out, “More! Please.” So he did it again. Small bursts of colour appeared behind her eyes as he moved inside her.

“God, I hate this, wanting you like this. I am desperate, Granger, like a man lost in the desert for three hundred days on end. Thirsting for water so long I am willing to drink the sand. You are the fucking sand beneath my feet!”

And that hurt. She thought there was a mutual respect to be had. But as he dropped his hold on her hair and moved his hands again to her hips, Hermione realized that was a lie. Draco was using her and, much to her disgust, part of her liked it. The other part, however, was drowned out by shame. Disgust at how she relished the idea that Draco’s grip was firm enough to leave finger-shaped bruises on her waist. He rocked her hips back and forth, pressing into her and hitting that sensitive spot causing the light show behind her eyelids.

Hermione refused to open her eyes. If she glimpsed her fingers on the headboard it would feel too real. If she could pretend this was all in her head, she could get through this. Maybe she would even enjoy it.

“What do you want?” Draco asked through gritted teeth. When Hermione didn’t answer, he pressed again, louder, “What do you want?!”

“I want this to be over,” Hermione whimpered. Draco smacked her asscheek again and she yelped in pleasure.

“Do you, now?”

Hermione swallowed hard and admitted, “No.”

“No, because we both need this, don’t we?” Draco asked as he stilled inside her. Hermione nodded. Her mouth was dry when she asked,

“Why do you want me to feel like this?”

“I want you to know what it feels like to be me,” Draco said, and it all made sense. The lack of control and the realization that her needs and desires didn’t matter? That was Draco’s reality. He pulled entirely out of Hermione and she felt his dick in the cleft of her ass. She leaned back into the touch and Draco moaned, smacking a cheek again. Hermione considered it a small victory.

“Open your eyes, Granger.”

Hermione shook her head and said, “No.”

“Open your eyes!” he repeated. She complied and reality came into sharp focus. Her fingers were white-knuckled against the headboard. Hermione glanced up at the grey wall and let all the fight leave her body. This was Draco’s game. He pushed inside Hermione again and she bit down on her tongue to keep the tears back, ashamed of her own enjoyment.

“On the other side of the veil, I see everything I do not have. Everything I cannot touch or taste because those things are alive and I am not.” Draco put his hands on Hermione’s shoulders. She hadn’t realized she was shaking. Draco’s thrusts became more erratic, and quick. He pressed two fingers against her clit and Hermione panted, barely able to hold down air. He removed his fingers sometime later; Hermione had lost all ability to gauge seconds versus minutes. She heard him suck his fingers, reveling in the taste of her against his tongue.

“As a ghost I cannot eat. I miss certain things,” he admitted. His slick fingers returned to their place against her sensitive mound. Hermione bucked into his hand then back onto his dick, the pleasure building up inside her navel. “I miss Firewhisky and pumpkin pasties, but I will not forget the taste of you, Granger.”

Hermione moaned loudly, unable to keep it in any longer. The compliment … She knew she tasted the same as any other woman would, but to know it was something Draco would carry with him across the veil nearly sent her over the edge. Draco placed both his hands overtop of Hermione’s on the headboard and leaned forward, his front once again flush against Hermione’s back. His fingers splayed out overtop of hers, powerful hands callused from years of Quidditch and potion-making.

“Everything feels like nothing on the other side of the veil. It is all nothingness, forcing me to forget what certain things feel like. I will lose the memory of your skin against mine, and the way pages of a book feel between my fingers.” And that hit Hermione more than anything. Sadness crept in, but then Draco moved the slightest bit inside her and it was forgotten.

Draco pressed his forehead into Hermione’s shoulder and said, “Smell disappears entirely. I miss Christmas biscuits the most.”

Hermione turned her hand over and threaded their fingers together. Draco responded in kind and squeezed her hand. He kissed her shoulder once before releasing her. He pulled out and nudged her knees even further apart.

“Sound is the same, though. Beg me for release, Granger.”

She didn’t want to, but she was so close. If he would just hit that spot inside her a couple more times, this would be over. They could stop.

“Please, Draco.”

“Please what?” he asked, his voice hoarse either from his commands or from the image of Hermione straddled and open in front of him. She didn’t have a mind to care which.

“Please make me come.”

Draco paused for several seconds and Hermione was trembling so much she wondered whether he would oblige her request after all. Without warning, he slid bollocks-deep inside Hermione and she cried out as Draco wrapped his fingers around her throat.

“One more thing about crossing to the other side of the veil, Granger,” he said. He tightened his fingers to choke off all of Hermione’s air. “You don’t get to breathe.”

He slammed into her then, not far from his own pleasure. Hermione was so close. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just croaked out small words of need.

“ _Please._ ”

_“Have mercy.”_

_“Let me come.”_

“That’s right, Granger, you are just like me,” Draco said, the words broken by shaky breaths. “You beg for release, for mercy from someone you swore you would never submit to.”

And she came. The light show behind her eyelids turned completely white as she cried out in ecstasy. She rubbed the pad of one finger against her clit and threw her head back onto Draco’s shoulder. He held onto her, one arm wrapped firmly around her midsection as the tremors slowed. Once she slumped in his arms he ran a hand up and down along her side once again. He came seconds later, which Hermione only deduced because he silenced his own cries against her shoulder.

She let go of the headboard and fell down against the pillows. Draco got up and stood beside the bed as Hermione rolled over. She passed a finger over her clit again to quell the aftershocks, thrusting up once more before falling boneless onto the bed.

Hermione felt awful as the reality of what she had done crashed down on top of her. She stared at Draco’s blank ceiling, disgusted by her willingness to be used. Ashamed to have been controlled by her hatred and lust. How had she enjoyed being at the mercy of Draco Malfoy? The worst part was that he had proven his point.

“You are just like me, Granger,” Draco repeated. “When it is all over you are forced back into this body to reckon with everything you hoped to forget. After that you are left with nothing but yourself, used and bruised, hopeless and broken.”

Hermione threw her legs over the side of the bed. She grabbed her clothes and hugged them to her chest, not wanting to give Draco any more time with her body. She was surprised when Draco took a step back. Before he turned around he said,

“You were right, Hermione.”

“About what?” She half-whispered the question and the corner of Draco’s mouth quirked up. He looked her in the eyes and admitted,

“I want you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are always appreciated.


End file.
